


Dragon Age: Torchwood 1.2 The Gunz Sequence

by Bloodsong



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsong/pseuds/Bloodsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What can I say?  You take the Bastions of BiSexuality, the Male Slash Icons,  aka Captain Jack Harkness and Zevran Arainai, and you stick them in a fic together... what do you THINK is gonna happen??? </p><p>This is an excerpt from Dragon Age: Torchwood Episode 1.2: Pointy-Eared Street Punks. (posted on FFnet.)  This excerpt contains the uncensored version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Handle a Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> This is a shameless ripoff of a scene from Torchwood, because Zevran woke me up at three freaking o'clock in the morning, begging me to write the scene where Jack teaches him how to handle a gu-- um, how to shoo-- um... the proper way to use firearms. That's what I meant. And he would NOT shut up, despite me yelling at him to let me SLEEP if he ever wanted it done at all!

 

  
  
     If the two elves were going to become full-fledged Torchwood operatives, they would need training in firearms.  Especially since they were from a time and place where such things never existed.  Jack took them into the basement shooting range.  Unlike his former students, the two didn't even have references to movie and TV information about guns, so he had to remember to explain everything, including how dangerous and loud guns were, what a 'safety' was, and that 'bullets' were not round things one shot out of slings.  Well, they were, but these were modern bullets.  "This is a gun -- an automatic -- and this is a clip."  He slapped the clip into the gun butt.

     The two elves -- Zevran the blond and Bannon the brunette -- watched keenly, and imitated him.

     "Right, the bullets face forward.... Good!"  Then Jack handed each a pair of shooting goggles and hearing protectors.  He donned his and waited a moment as the elves grimaced and tried to adjust the thick earpieces.  "Sorry," he said, "they're not designed to accommodate pointy ears."

     "Yeah," Bannon muttered. "Shems and your short, round ears; we know all about you."

     "Mm," Zevran agreed distractedly, but he wasn't looking at Jack's ears.

     Jack followed his gaze downward.  Oh, so _that's_ how it was!  The Captain snickered.  "Riiiight."

     Gear in place, he had them stand on the firing line.  Bannon on the far left, then Zevran, and Jack remained near the loading table.  There was an assortment of different handguns, both automatic and revolver, in many different sizes.  Torchwood didn't have regulation-issue sidearms, so the team had to be versatile in a wide variety.

     "All right," Jack said, the microphone carrying his voice at conversation level to the headsets.  "The targets are down there."  He pointed down the shooting alley which was set up with a jumble of old crates and boxes and paper targets.  Ianto had made up some pseudo-weevil images from clip-art, slapped some target bulls eyes on them, and then had sheets run off at the local copy shop.  "Take your shooting stance; side out."

     Jack turned to his left, but the elves turned right.  He looked at them in perplexity a moment, as they looked questioningly back to him.  "Oh!  Okay, that's good for bow and arrow, or rifle, but the gun is in our right hand, so right side out."  They switched.  "Safeties off...."  Yes, they'd learned that all right.

     Jack moved closer behind Zevran, and put his left hand on the elf's waist.  Just so the self-professed assassin wouldn't startle as Jack sidled up and pressed against his back.  The elf was very short, even shorter than Gwen; his buttocks nestled comfortably under Jack's hips, pressing against his thighs.  He really oughtn't, but he couldn't resist nudging his knee between Zevran's legs.  "Wide stance...," he said, and felt his body temperature rise a notch as the elf complied.  Hell, any second now, his pheromone production was going to kick in.  _Concentrate!_

     "Arm locked straight," he instructed.  "Direct line from shoulder to wrist."  With a gentle touch, he guided Zevran's arm up, letting his fingertips glide along the skin on the underside of the elf's bicep.  God, he had such smooth skin!  "Line up the sights."

     "Sights?" Zevran asked.

     "There's a bump on the end of the barrel," Jack said, pointing.  "And a notch on the back.  When those two line up on the target, then you're aimed properly.  No, no," he said as Zevran raised the gun higher.  "Don't compensate for gravity; this isn't an arrow.  Just shoot straight."

     Jack impulsively moved his hand to draw Zevran's hair back from his neck.  Just in case it was perhaps getting in his way.  The Captain leaned down, catching a faint hint of the elf's spicy scent.  He also caught Bannon looking at them over his shoulder.  The elf's eyes were narrowed, and Jack was willing to bet his ears were laid back under the protectors.

     Jack suppressed a wicked grin.  He really couldn't help himself.  _They're not fae,_ the non-reptile portion of his brain told him coldly.  _You can't blame this on them._

      _Ah, shut it!_   He rested his right hand on Zevran's hip.  To help keep his stance steady.  Still bent low so his breath caressed the elf's neck, he murmured, "Now take a breath.  Hold...."  Of it's own volition, his left hand roamed down over the elf's hip to the top of his thigh.  "Exhale slowly... and as you do...."  His fingers followed the instructions as he spoke them.  "Gently... _squeeze_...."

     Both Jack and Zevran twitched simultaneously as Bannon's gun barked a retort.  But Zevran hadn't fired.  "Zevran," Jack said, putting his left hand back on the elf's waist, in safer territory.  "Squeeze... the trigger."

     "Oh!"

     The thunderclap of the shot sent a jolt through both their bodies.  Jack eased up a bit and looked down the alley at the targets.  Both elves had completely missed the bulls eyes.  But apparently, that hadn't been what they'd been shooting at.  Both cartoon weevils now sported a bullet hole where the left eyes had been.  "That's... impressive."

     "Is this piece supposed to fall off the gun?"  Bannon crouched and picked up a small cylinder of brass.

     "Oh, yes," Jack said.  "That's the spent bullet casing.  Those eject out.  Try a few more."

     The elves shot out the weevils' other eye, and the center of the bulls eye target.  Damn.  "That's amazing.  You've never handled a gun before?"

     "Elves have keen eyesight and dexterity," Zevran said, lining up another shot.  "We are naturally very good shooters."

     "Mm," Jack agreed as another loud report made him and Zevran twitch again.

     "This is easy," Bannon said.  He raised his gun and fired off six shots in a row.  They tore a neat 2-inch diameter hole directly in the weevil's groin.

     Jack took his hands off Zevran.

     "Hmph," the blond elf said.  "Shall we compete for points?"

     "All right, I'm game!"

     From there on out, the orderly lessons devolved into a rapid fire competition.  Jack turned on the moving target array and proclaimed that the losers had to kiss the winner.  And then he promptly found out how ego-deflating it was to go up against a pair of quick, sharp-eyed elves.  What they lacked in experience and practice, they made up for, in spades, with pure natural talent.  

     In the end, Bannon won.  "Hah!  Thief wins again!"  Apparently, this was not uncommon.  Zevran just grumbled.

     "Safeties on!" Jack reminded them.  He pulled off his goggles and ear protectors and set them on the table with his handgun.  Then he leaned back against it, watching the two elves kiss.  Well, there was nothing wrong with _watching,_ now was there?  He was their safety instructor.  He had to watch their li-- er-- hands, so they didn't accidentally shoot anything off.  They seemed eerily adept at embracing while holding weapons.

     They finally broke, slowly unwrapping their arms from each other.  They came to the table to relinquish their gear.  Jack showed them how to unload the guns.  But before they turned away, Jack said, "You know, Bannon; I lost, too.  Don't you want your kiss?"

     "Hell no."

     Jack sighed.  Well, it was worth a shot.

     "You can kiss me," Zevran teased.

     "All right."  And before he could escape, Jack had his lips locked on the elf's mouth.  Wait, the safeties were on and the guns were unloaded, right?  Bannon couldn't kill him -- not permanently -- but getting shot in the nards wasn't fun for anyone.

     But Bannon didn't shoot him, or hit him, or anything for that matter.  And Zevran didn't pull away.  In fact, the elf cupped a hand behind Jack's neck and kissed him back.  His fingers were strong; they stroked the neck muscles with firm pressure.

     Jack put his hands on Zevran's shoulders and kissed harder, turning his head and pressing down to coax the elf's jaws open.  Jack flicked his tongue into Zevran's mouth, tasting that faint spicy flavor.  Zevran slid his tongue under Jack's and curled the tip, stroking the tender, wet underside.  As Jack withdrew, Zevran bit his lower lip, hard.  More of a nip, really, just a quick pinch.  Not enough to draw blood, but a clear signal this exchange was over.

     Jack leaned back, rubbing his tingling lip with the back of one finger.  Oh yes, his pheromones were going into overdrive.  Zevran's pupils were dilated.  He seemed able to shake it off after a second or two.

     Bannon said, "Do you leave these things just lying all over the floor?" as if nothing untoward had happened.  He rolled some shell casings away with his foot.

     "Ianto will sweep those up later," Jack said.  Again, as if nothing untoward had happened.  It was just a kiss, after all.  "Let's see what the pizza man brought for dinner."  He gestured for the elves to go ahead of him up the stairs.  After all, there was also nothing wrong with looking at mighty fine elven butts.  Jeans definitely suited them.

 


	2. The Liaison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you have any other dangerous weapons I might get stabbed with?" the Captain demanded.
> 
> "One... but it is not detachable, and I thought the whole point of this exercise was for you to get stabbed with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i am SO not responsible for jack and zevran's horrible horrible smexy flirty lines!!!)

 

  
  
     After dinner, Zevran and Bannon started heading out of the Torchwood command center, on their way to their upstairs apartment.  Zevran stopped in the short hall.  "So, um...," he began.

     Bannon turned, a knowing look on his face.

     Zevran was bouncing on the balls of his feet.  Such a giveaway.  "So can I go with Jack?"  He grinned sheepishly.

     "Tonight?"

     "Yes!"

     "He's awfully tall."  Bannon didn't know why they were having this discussion.  He supposed it was to test the Antivan elf's determination.  Or to explore his own misgivings.

     "He is," Zevran agreed with a grin.  "And very strong.  And he smells absolutely _delicious!_ "  The Antivan almost drooled.

     Bannon sighed.  Zevran stopped grinning and bouncing, and gave him a concerned look.  "Well?  Do you mind?"

     Bannon turned it over in his head.  It was clear the shem was only interested in physical sex.  So he shrugged and said, "No, I don't mind.  Go ahead."

     Zevran's whole face lit up and he practically leapt on Bannon.  The Denerim elf found himself almost smothered in a deeply passionate kiss.  He had to gasp for air when Zevran finally let go.  Grinning like a maniac, Zevran said, "You are the greatest guy, ever!  Have I told you that lately?"

     "Yeah, yeah."  Bannon rolled his eyes.  Zevran gave him another serious look.  Bannon caressed his cheek, running the back of his knuckles lovingly down Zevran's tattoo.  The tension around the Antivan elf's eyes relaxed.  He allowed his guard to drop as he looked deeply into his lover's eyes.  He leaned forward and kissed Bannon again, gently, softly.  It was a silent pledge of their love for each other, the true emotion and loyalty, untouched by passing physical pleasures.

     Bannon smiled as they slowly pulled apart.  "Go have fun."

     The grin sprang back onto Zevran's face, and Bannon had to chuckle as the Antivan scampered off eagerly.  
  


 

  
  
     "So where's your room?"

     Jack looked up from his desk, startled.  He stared at the bronzed blond elf leaning in the doorway.  The curve of Zevran's body against the doorjamb made his yellow t-shirt stretch to cling to the musculature underneath.  And those narrowed hips hugged by tight jeans... God, he could make Calvin Klein a mint!  Jack blinked a few times to marshal his thoughts.  "Um... sorry?"

     "Your room?"  Zevran twisted slightly, making the light and shadow do interesting things across his shirt.  "Where do you sleep?"

     "I don't, actually."

     "Truly?"  Zevran frowned.  "Then where do you take all these fabled boyfriends you are always on about?"

     Jack's brows went up.  "There is a recreation room....  You're not seriously suggesting...?"  He gaped.  "Are you?"

     Zevran's eyes widened.  He straightened up and put a hand to his face.  "Oh!  I'm so sorry!"  He looked around, seemingly lost.  Confused, Jack looked around, too.  "Is this the wrong office?" Zevran asked.  "I was looking for that guy who had his hand on my leg just a while ago."  The elf sighed dramatically, and Jack felt his eyebrows crawling further up his forehead.  "I seem to have lost him.  Perhaps you have seen him?  Tall fellow, steely eyes, cleft chin, broad shoulders?  Amazing dimples!  Are you sure this is not his office?"  The elf affected a frown.  "He put his tongue in my mouth; I was sure he wanted to have sex with me."

     Jack tried to process all this.  The elf was coming on to him?  Well, yes, he was devilishly handsome and had irresistible pheromones, but he hadn't expected this.  His jaw worked silently a moment.  Then he said.  "I thought... you and Bannon were....  You know.  Together."

     "Oh, we are."

     For one blindingly lustful second, Jack thought the elf meant literally.  His eyes drifted past Zevran, and he slowly leaned sideways in his chair, looking to see if the other elf was waiting in the hall.  He didn't appear to be.  Jack wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

     "Is that a problem?" Zevran asked, snapping the Captain back to the issue at hand.

     "No!  I mean... is it?"  Visions of groin-shot targets danced in his head.  "What about Bannon?"

     "I just asked him.  He said it was fine."

     "He did?"  Jack's jaw dropped.  And surely his eyebrows were going to shoot off the top of his head.

     "Ah, I believe, 'Go and have fun,' were his exact words."  Zevran leaned more heavily on the doorway, angling his elbow up and resting his head against his folded arm.  The t-shirt stretched to its limit, clearly outlining a ring in his left nipple.  "He's the greatest, isn't he?"

     Hell, yeah!  "In that case--!"  Jack jumped up from behind his desk and went to the doorway.  The elf didn't vacate it very quickly, but the Captain leaned halfway through and pointed.  "Down that hall, down the stairs, on the left."

     The elf cocked his head.  "You're sending me alone?"

     "I have to finish up here, tell Ianto to close up.  I'll be along in a few minutes."

     Zevran grinned.  "Then I suppose, I will have to poke around and see what toys you have for your 'recreation,' no?"  He pushed off from the wall and slinked down the hallway.

     Jack continued to hang out his door frame, watching.   
  


 

  
  
     Shortly, Ianto was at Jack's door.  "Have you seen Zevran?" he asked.  "He hasn't checked out."

     "Oh, he's staying late for some extra shooting practice."  A sly grin spread across the Captain's face.  "You can go ahead and close up for the night."

     Ianto gave him a dubious look.  "You hardly know him.  He's... well, an exotic alien species."  Jack's grin only widened.  "Oh, of course.  Who did I think I was talking to?"

     "Yeah, I'm getting a lot of that lately."

     "He _is_ an assassin," Ianto reminded him.

     "I know."  Again, hardly a deterrent to this man.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  "And, his boyfriend shoots like this!"  Jack held up the weevil target from the elves' first training session.  Just in case it wasn't clear exactly which shooting he meant, Jack poked a finger through the hole where the weevil's groin used to be, and wiggled it.  "Shoots the nards off a weevil at thirty paces!"

     Ianto just stared.  "And you think shagging this elf is actually a good idea?"

     "Nope."  Jack lowered the target and shook his head.  "Not at all.  A terrible idea."  His schoolboy grin never wavered.

     "Yet... you're still going to do it anyway."

     "Yep!"

     Ianto pressed the fingertips of one hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed.  "Very well, then," he said with his usual crispness.  "Your paperwork is caught up, and your bills are all squared away.  It was nice knowing you."  
  


 

  
  
  
     The recreation room was just and old spare room that currently didn't have any other use.  There was a bench and a set of weights, a couple of old video games, and a pinball machine in the corner.  There was a bed, of course.  It was a cast-iron bed frame with an old mattress, several layers of sheets, and assorted pillows of varying shapes and sizes.  A towel rack also stood handily nearby, next to a low basin sink.  There weren't any windows, being underground, but it sported a soft overhead light and a corner lamp with yellowed shade.

     Zevran left the door open, so he could see down the hall.  It wasn't long before Jack's booted footsteps rang out on the stairs and his long stride carried him quickly to the room.  A practiced push let the door swing closed with a firm thump.  The Captain hooked his thumbs into his suspenders and slid them down over his arms.  Those things gave aliens and visitors from medieval cultures the hardest time.

     Without any other preamble, his mouth was on Zevran's, hungry for a longer taste then he was allowed before.  The elf responded readily, this time barely scraping with his teeth instead of biting.  He ran his hands up Jack's stomach and chest, working on the buttons of his shirt.

     Jack spread his hands over the elf's back, stroking the soft cotton of the tight t-shirt.  It was warm with the elf's body heat.  Jack's left hand slid lower, over the leather belt, over the back pockets of the jeans, down to curve under the swell of Zevran's buttocks.  He cupped... squeezed....

     His right hand drew up the ridge line of Zevran's lats.  With his thumb, he probed for the ring in the elf's nipple.

     Zevran pushed against him and broke the kiss.  Jack pulled back a step.  Both men were panting for breath.  Zevran tipped his head, indicating Jack's shirt, undershirt, and suspenders.  "You must be hell at strip poker."

     Jack chuckled.  "You know how to play strip poker?"  The elf nodded.  "Can you get Bannon to play with us?"

     "Can you get Tosh and Gwen?"

     "Hmm... maybe.  What's with him and humans, anyway?"  Jack took the opportunity to start kicking off his boots.  "Human men, I mean."

     "He doesn't like hairy men."  Zevran bent to pull off his tall leather boots.  "Or hairy women, I suppose."

     "I'm not hairy."  Jack shrugged with a moue.  "Much."

     "He also dislikes partners who are taller than he is."  The elf tilted his head and squinted up at Jack to make his point.

     "Damn."  There went that.  Jack kicked his boots under the bed.  A sudden glint from Zevran's boots caught his eye.  "Are you armed?" he asked in mild alarm.

     "Of course."

     Jack palmed his face.  Ianto would have his head for not checking.  _Weapons first, snogging after!_   "Put them on the table!"

     "Can't I just leave them in my boots?"  The assassin set them neatly aside.

     "Do you have any other dangerous weapons I might get stabbed with?" the Captain demanded.

     "One... but it is not detachable, and I thought the whole point of this exercise was for you to get stabbed with it."

     Jack snorted laughter.  He moved forward as Zevran pulled his t-shirt out of his pants and then peeled it off over his head.  His arms and torso rippled with bronze muscle.  Jack stopped a minute to admire the abstract tattoos that flowed over the right side of the elf's body.  With his fingertips, he traced the spiral over Zevran's taut abs.  While he was distracted with that, Zevran tugged the tails of the Captain's unbuttoned shirt free from his waistband.

     "I have one rule," Zevran said.  Jack looked into his face.  "You see the ring.  You are not to touch it."

     Jack pushed his tongue thoughtfully into his cheek, looking at the fat-bellied gold ring in Zevran's left nipple.  He put his hands on the elf's sides, stroking his ribs in small circles with his thumbs.  "You know, I'm really terrible with rules," he confessed fiendishly.  His right hand crept upward.  "Telling me not to do something just makes it all the more tempting...."  He extended his thumb under Zevran's left pectoral.

     The elf reached across and seized Jack's wrist.  Hard.  His grip was like iron.  Jack startled and focused back on Zevran's face.  "You cannot follow this rule," the elf warned; "I leave.  Immediately."

     Jack took a breath, reining himself in.  Fun was fun, but he never disrespected his partners.  He nodded, once.  "I understand," he said.  Not in his teasing, irreverent voice.  In his real tone, because he meant it.  Zevran loosed his wrist.  Carefully, Jack moved his hands to the elf's waist.  "Just out of curiosity...," he said slowly, that irreverence creeping back in.  "Do you have any rules I _can_ break?"  He crooked one side of his mouth in a grin.

     "Ah, hrmmm."  Zevran gave it some thought.  After a moment, his eyes lit up.  "Ah, yes.  Absolutely no licking!"  He tilted his head belligerently, fixing the human with a stern eye.

     Jack's grin spread.  "Oh, ho.  A challenge!"

 


	3. The Wrestling Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tune in as Jack says, "What happens if I suck on the tip?"

   Jack clearly had a controlling personality.  Zevran was hardly surprised, given the shem's size and how he wielded authority over his people.  Did he think he was being subtle, making free with Zevran's clothes while not giving the elf an ounce of help in undressing him?  Jack only had his shirt open -- his outer one -- and his boots off, while Zevran had nothing but his pants still on.  And Jack had already undone the belt and fly, and slid his hands in down the back, cupping and squeezing the smooth flesh skin to skin.

     Jack's mouth was hot and hungry on Zevran's.  It was strong, controlling... demanding, even.  Zevran enjoyed it that way, at times, but he was no slave or whore any longer.  He began his counter-attack by pushing Jack's shoulders and arms back, working the shirt up and over the curve of the deltoids.  Zevran didn't take it all the way off, but left it binding Jack's arms behind him.  It wasn't so tight as to leave him helplessly bound, but if he wanted a full range of motion for his hands, he'd have to finish pulling the sleeves off.

     As Jack pulled away slightly to wriggle out of that, Zevran attacked the waistband of his trousers.  Getting the fly open was much simpler than he was used to.  Instead of laces, they had buttons or metal 'snaps,' and this amazing invention called a zipper.  He still hadn't figured out how they got all the little metal teeth to mesh together and pull apart so easily.  

     He left the pants for now.  Without the odd shoulder-belt contraption, there was nothing holding the trousers up but their tension on Jack's hips and thighs.  Zevran pulled the front edge of the white undershirt up and planted a series of wet, licking kisses on Jack's stomach.  True to his word, he wasn't very hairy; his chest was smooth and broad.  Bannon really ought to try one of the hairless shems; he might actually like it.  Jack was out of the question, however.  Bannon found large men intimidating.

     Jack conceded to finish pulling off the undershirt while Zevran ran the edge of his teeth over the moving curve of Jack's pectorals.  Jack tossed the shirt towards the foot of the bed, neither looking nor apparently caring where it actually landed.  Then he took Zevran's face in his strong hands and gently tipped the elf's head back to kiss him -- not on the mouth, but on the throat.  Zevran moved his head to the side with a small sound of pleasure, so the human could kiss and lick his neck.  As he did so, he slipped his jeans down off his hips and then braced his arms around the human's back so he could push himself up against Jack's open fly.  Jack helped by putting his hands back on Zevran's buttocks and pulling him up close.

     The two men swayed together, pushing slowly against each other, creating a delicious friction between their shafts that was only enhanced by the thin layers of cloth still separating them.  Jack's breath was loud and warm in Zevran's hair, inhaling and exhaling with the rhythm of their movement.  Zevran shifted against him and put his mouth over Jack's nipple, laving it with his tongue.

     Jack slid his hands up Zevran's back and gave him a not-so-subtle push on his shoulders, indicating where he wanted the elf to apply his mouth next.  Zevran didn't resist.  If the shem thought he was the one in control by putting the elf on his knees, he was only deluding himself.  Zevran was very talented in this area -- a master in his own right.  He soon had Jack panting and then moaning in need.  Zevran, however, was a terrible tease.

     Jack had one hand on Zevran's shoulder, the other tangled in the elf's hair at the nape of his neck.  To the human's credit, he didn't use his strength to force anything.  Perhaps he liked being teased mercilessly.  Zevran only knew that he wasn't giving Jack anything until the shem gave him something back.

     Finally, the human pushed him away.  "All right," Jack said breathlessly.  He finished stepping out of his clothes, then helped Zevran with his rather tight jeans.  The shakiness of his hands and almost frantically deft motions revealing the depths of his need.

     They shortly ended up in the bed, Zevran on his back, cradled by the big man's body; arms around him, knees under his back, torso arched above him.  Zevran locked his ankles behind Jack's waist and clutched at his back.  Jack was doing him hard, breathing heavy with the exertion, eyes half-closed in pure animal pleasure.  Oh, he wasn't hurting Zevran -- Zevran could take it; he'd suffered much, much worse.  But damn, he was strong!  Zevran's fingernails raked furrows down the big man's shoulder blades.

     Jack spent himself and uncurled his arms to hold his own weight as he panted in recovery.  His short hair was spiked with sweat, his face red.  His whole body was slicked with sweat, but dammit, he still smelled delicious.  Zevran would have to find out how he managed that.

     Jack disengaged from him and helped Zevran into position where both men were kneeling, Zevran against Jack's back.  The human guided Zevran into him.  Zevran pushed, but didn't get the leverage he wanted.  "You're too tall," he said, the side of his face pressed against the man's back.  "Lean forward."

     Jack did not comply.  Perhaps the man hadn't heard him.  Zevran leaned back enough to look up, gripping Jack firmly by the waist.  "Bend over," he growled.

     The shem just shook his head once.  He pressed back against Zevran's hips, but he wouldn't let the elf bring his weight to bear.  Zevran's eyes narrowed.  He'd had about enough of these little power games.  He leaned forward again and snaked his right arm down under Jack's, then up behind his head.  He seized a fistful of hair and pulled down hard.  The shem pitched forward with a grunt, catching himself on one hand and an elbow.  Zevran held him pinned with one hand on his neck and the other arm around his waist, determined to ride the shem hard.  Jack grunted again, but he didn't fight or tell Zevran to stop.

 

  
  
  
     That was pretty much the start of the wrestling match.  Jack twisted out of Zevran's hold when the elf was left momentarily weak after his climax.  'Momentarily' being the key word, because he quickly recovered.  The bed was too narrow, so they ended up on the floor.  Rolling and grappling, vying for top position, they attacked each other with lips and tongue, sometimes teeth.  The floor lamp in the corner ended up being knocked askew, saved from breakage by falling against the table.  The weight bench was less forgiving.  Both men were bruised liberally by the time Jack finally managed to pin Zevran's wrists to the floor over his head and sit on the elf's hips.  Zevran _writhed_ under him, the sweat-slicked muscles of his torso standing out in sharp relief, gleaming gold in the light.  Jack squeezed his thighs tightly around Zevran's, keeping him from moving his legs.  The human's superior weight on his hips and wrists would keep him from escaping, so Jack just watched.  And, well, felt it too.

     At last, Zevran gave up and lay still, panting.  His chest rose and fell, making the gold ring in his nipple dance with reflected light.

     With the tip of his tongue, Jack probed a stinging cut at the corner of his mouth.  He tasted the tinfoil tang of blood.  "Had enough?" he asked his captive breathlessly.

     The elf calmed his own breathing somewhat.  He half-lidded his eyes and relaxed further in Jack's grip.  The human was not fooled into loosening that grip, however.  "Why, Jack," the elf drawled; "I must commend you on your restraint."

     "Excuse me?"  Restraint?  He hadn't had a wrestling match like this in years!  He'd -- well, he'd held back from actually hurting the elf, but he'd gone at it dangerously hard.  And Zevran called that restraint?

     "Mm."  The elf nodded slightly.  "I told you not to lick me; and how obedient you are!"  Oh, so _that's_ how it was!  Zevran smirked.  "You're such a good boy."

     Jack growled.  Damn, but Zevran was pushing his buttons!  Did he really want to give the elf the satisfaction?  Zevran writhed slowly, almost imperceptibly, running his tongue over his full lower lip.  Hell, yeah!  "Oh, _licking_ ," Jack said thoughtfully.  He opened his mouth and slowly lowered his head.

     "Don't," Zevran warned, as Jack held poised over his chest.  He sounded so sincere, Jack had to look up in concern.  The elf's amber eyes glittered under lowered lids; his lips were curled in a faint feral smile.

     Jack bent further, letting his warm breath flow over the bronze skin.  Zevran's chest stopped rising as he suddenly held his breath, holding as still as possible.  Jack extended his tongue, but didn't make contact.  He held the moment just one excruciating bit longer, then ran his tongue up the center of Zevran's chest.  The elf exhaled, nearly breathing a word.  Jack raised his head with a cocky grin.

     "Don't," Zevran growled throatily, "do that again."  The tendons of his wrists tensed under Jack's hands as the elf clenched and opened his fists.

     Jack's eyes flicked towards the temptation of the nipple-ring -- just for the briefest instant.  Though Zevran was now helpless to prevent him from touching it, he did not even consider it.  Not consciously, anyway.

     Quickly, he bent and stroked his tongue up Zevran's breastbone once more, then started mercilessly lapping and laving his tongue all over the elf's chest, steering towards the safe zone of the right pectoral.  Zevran let out a curious sound, something between a grunt and a squeal, and his chest hitched.  Was he... giggling?  Did this tickle him?  Jack did it more, determined to find the elf's weakness.

     He wriggled, but remained silent.  At least, until Jack closed his mouth over Zevran's nipple and sucked it gently.  Then the elf relaxed and let out an appreciative moan.  The Captain kept at it, probing with the tip of his tongue, brushing the edge of his teeth over the nubby flesh.  While Zevran was distracted and docile, Jack pulled his arms down.  He didn't give the slippery elf an opportunity to break out of his grip, but he folded Zevran's arms so his elbows were by his ribs and his hands were up by his shoulders.  Jack leaned on his wrists again, keeping him pinned.  Now he could reach the elf's entire torso with his tongue.  He flicked the nipple one last time, then sat back to catch his breath a moment and to savor his next plan of attack.

     Zevran writhed as Jack tormented him.  It wasn't so much that he was trying to escape, but rather undulating slowly to bring his skin into more pleasurable contact with Jack's tongue.  The occasional moan of "No, no... mm, oh" wasn't fooling anyone, either.  Both men were becoming aroused by their little game, Zevran the moreso as Jack moved lower down his body, and the elf anticipated the inevitable conclusion of this scenario.  

     Jack scooted back by degrees, until he was straddling Zevran's knees instead of his hips.  He kept his legs clamped over the elf's however, even after Zevran gave up all pretenses of wanting to escape and indicated to Jack with a look that he'd gladly open his legs for the man, to give him freer access.  Oh, no.  Jack was having none of that.  He did reposition Zevran's arms down along his sides, but kept firm hold of those as well.

     "I'm going to lick your navel," Jack said with an evil leer.

     Zevran glared daggers at him.  "Can you sink no lower, you fiend?!"

     Jack smirked.  "Not just yet."  This was a good bet as to where the elf might be ticklish.  He did squirm as Jack bent over him, a bit more enthusiastically than before.  Jack still managed to zero in on the target and poke his tongue tip right into that tight little nook.  Zevran gasped, his belly rising and falling with his breath.  Jack probed harder and the elf tensed under him, pushing back.  Zevran hissed a stream of unintelligible cursing that sounded somewhat Latin.  But, alas, no giggling.

     The Captain eased up for both of them to catch their breath for the next round.  Zevran's eyes were dilated in anticipation.  Jack grinned just a bit more and bent over him, aiming lower now, but... he stopped a bare hand's breadth from the elf's eager shaft.  Zevran fidgeted, unconsciously shifting his hips slightly in an effort to close the gap.  Jack slowly drew his tongue over his lower lip, then folded his lip inward, to let it drag back out under his upper teeth.  "You're right."  He looked Zevran in the eye.  "You asked me not to lick you, and... I've been bad.  I'm a bad man."  He affected a moue of self-disgust.  "I promise you, Zevran," he said, his voice deep with sincerity, his eyes soft; "I won't ever lick you again."

     Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the expression on the elf's face.  He did grin again, however, making sure to show his teeth, as Zevran struggled to find something to say.  He saved the elf from that by saying, "I will follow your rules.  As I recall..." he grinned a little wider;  "you didn't say anything about 'no _biting_.'"

     Zevran's eyes popped open.  Jack had to restrain another laugh as he bent down, drawing his lips back from his strong, white teeth.  Zevran made a noise, distinctly like an "eep!", with a suddenly indrawn breath.  Jack... nibbled, just barely tickling the elf's sensitive flesh.  There was a distinct _thunk_ as Zevran threw his head back.  The floor was concrete under a thin indoor/outdoor rug; that must have hurt.  Nevertheless, Jack -- bad man that he was -- didn't stop what he was doing.  Oh, no.  The little elven weasel was going to pay for teasing him mercilessly earlier!  He was going to pay in spades!

     Jack worked Zevran over, struggling at times to keep the over-excited elf pinned down.  But the Captain kept at him until his panting sounded a bit more like sobbing and his moaning sounded a bit more like pleading.  Just a bit.  Jack wasn't _really_ evil.  He brought Zevran to climax, then helped the weak-kneed elf back into the bed.

     Jack was rock hard again, and Zevran knew what he wanted.  The elf knelt at the head of the bed, hanging on to the iron railing, while Jack got what the elves quaintly called 'massage oil.'  He climbed up behind Zevran.  Before he mounted him, he ran his hands over the elf's body appreciatively; his flanks, his back and shoulders -- pausing to admire the ink under the skin, the tribal curves on his right side, the falcon tattoo on his left shoulder; then the lean muscles of his arms, his strong thighs.  Then he put one arm around Zevran's waist, the other across his chest.  He remembered to move his hand so he didn't touch the nipple-ring.  They lined up and Zevran grunted ever so slightly as Jack entered him.  "Does it bother you when I do it hard?" Jack asked him softly, leaning to breathe into Zevran's left ear.

     "Heh.  No."  His voice was full of cocky self-confidence.  It rang true, however.  Perhaps Zevran had already found his limits and was secure in his ability to withstand such rigors.

     "You're so strong," Jack breathed.  He touched his tongue tip to the back of that pointed ear and ran it up to the tip.  Zevran yelped!  "What?" Jack froze, afraid to move and hurt him further.  "What did I do?"

     "Did you not promise, no more licking?"  The elf was so agitated that his accent intensified, and it sounded like he was saying 'leekheeng.'

     "Well... yeah, but I'm the evil bad guy.  I'm allowed to lie."

     "There is definitely not to be no leekheeng of the ear!" Zevran hissed in rapid fire.

     Jack craned his neck to look at Zevran's face as the elf looked back at him.  Jack quirked a brow, wondering if he'd meant that double-negative.  "What, you mean like this?"  He flicked out his tongue like a frog after a fly.

     "Awk!"  Zevran nearly jumped, making them both bounce slightly on the bed.  "That is exactly what I am meaning!"

     Jack did it again, slowly now, and a shockwave tremored through Zevran's body.  Jack started licking at the top of his ear, making the elf squirm and squeal for him to _stop that!_   He didn't, of course.  The elf's skin was becoming feverishly hot against Jack's chest, and all that wriggling just encouraged the human to enhance it with some strong hip motions of his own.  He lowered one hand to stroke Zevran's length, impressed but hardly surprised that he was fully aroused again.

     "What happens if I suck on the tip?" Jack wondered aloud.  He didn't wait for any response, but closed his lips over the elf's pointed ear tip, stroking it with his tongue.  This elicited a cat-like yowl from Zevran.

     It was a good thing the bedstead was iron and not wood, though Jack still feared they might shake the bolts loose or something.  That was the last coherent thought he had before he was enveloped in a red hot haze of pleasure.  It wasn't often he got to switch off his brain, and sexual euphoria never lasted very long.  But one took whatever release one could.

     White light flashed through the haze, searing Jack from the inside like a thunderbolt.  He cried out and bit down on Zevran's shoulder as the power shook through his body.  Then he slumped, heart thudding against his ribs.  The world slowly reintroduced itself on Jack's consciousness.  He could feel Zevran's heart thumping as well, where his back pressed against the Jack's chest.  He took a shaky breath and gave Zevran's shoulder a little kiss, mute apology for biting him so hard.

 


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran returns to his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Blaze is Zevran's horse.

 

   Stiffly, Jack got moving.  He clambered out of the bed and to the sink, so he could wash his hands.  He tossed Zevran one of the hand towels.  "Does your man do laundry, too?" the elf asked him.

     Ianto, the guy always sweeping and tidying up after everyone in Torchwood.  Jack felt a strange twinge of guilt, but hey, it was the guy's job.  "I'll take care of it later," he told Zevran.  He could at least bundle it for Ianto to take to the laundry.  

     The two men gathered up their clothing and put it back on.  Zevran didn't bother with his shirt, since he was only going upstairs.   "Do you truly not sleep?" he asked the human as the man buttoned up his shirt.

     "No," Jack said regretfully.  "Not for a long time, now."

     Zevran stretched languidly, and gave a jaw-cracking yawn.  He looked like some exotic South American jaguar god.  "I will sleep very well tonight," he purred.  Jack recognized that as a compliment and smiled to himself.  He gestured for the elf to go with him, so he could walk him to the security door and let him out.  As they went, Zevran asked him more questions.  "So, do you drink and pass out?  Would that not be sleep?"

     "I can't do that, either.  My body cleanses alcohol from my system even before I can get drunk."

     "Damn.  How do you... not go insane?"

     For a relatively primitive, no-nonsense basics type of person, Zevran seemed to grasp the dilemma immediately.  "I keep myself occupied," Jack said.  "There's always the opiate of the masses," he added with dry wit.  The elf only looked blankly at him.  "Television," he clarified.  The elf still looked confused.  Jack grinned and waved it off.  "Don't worry, you'll catch up with all that soon enough.  Plus... there's never enough hours in the day to finish surfing for porn."

     "Surfing...?"

     "Yeah, the less you know about that, the better."  His best time-waster jokes... wasted!  More soberly, he said, "Sometimes I take long walks.  Sometimes I just watch the city sleep."  Sometimes he stood high on the corner of the city buildings, the wind whispering around him.  The precarious vantage points didn't bother him.  Sometimes, he contemplated jumping.  A few long seconds of free fall, then the slamming impact of pain.  And after that... if he landed right... well, the poets say death is like sleep.  A short reprieve from thinking and feeling.  And then he'd come back with a gasp, pick himself up, and shake it off.

     They arrived at the security door and Jack opened it for Zevran.  "I'll see you tomorrow," the Captain said.  
  
  


 

  
     Zevran slowly pushed the door to the elves apartment open, keeping his head down.  The lights were off; Bannon must have gone to bed.  "It's Zevran," he hissed quietly into the dark.  He didn't call his lover's name.  If he did, that meant there was someone following him trying to kill them, and Bannon would come at him swiftly with a dagger.  It was paranoid, true, but Zevran approved.  It wasn't so unusual for there to be someone sneaking into their rooms, trying to kill them, anyway.

     Zevran slipped off his boots and crossed to the bathroom, not bothering with the lights.  The city lights that seeped in through the curtains were sufficient for his elven vision.  He turned the hot water on full blast and undressed.  Marvelous invention these shower things!  They really needed to work out how to rig up one at the Keep.  It would make those godawful stone pig troughs Fereldans used for baths actually bearable.  He stuffed his clothes into the hamper.  It took time for the water to heat up fully, but he didn't wait.  He stepped into the lukewarm water to quickly rinse the smell and feel of the other man off himself.  His shoulder twinged; that was going to leave a mark.

     He quickly finished washing up and dried off with a towel.  He snatched a pair of Bannon's sweatpants off the floor; the other elf was forever leaving things lying around.  Zevran had taken to wearing his things just to annoy him.  These particular pants were very comfortable.  Zevran loved the soft nappy feel of the fabric on his bare skin.  It was a shame they didn't have those very useful pockets, or he might just give up his jeans and leather pants.  Well... maybe not.

     He crept into the bedroom.  "It's Zevran," he said again, barely above a whisper.  "Are you asleep?"

     "Mm hm," came the sleep-fogged reply.

     Zevran lifted the covers and slid into the bed.  The sheets were smooth and cool, until he slid closer to his partner, where his body heat had warmed them.  Zevran snuggled against Bannon's back, tucking an arm over his waist.  Zevran inhaled the pleasant familiar musk of his lover's hair and exhaled with a soft sigh.  It was good to be home.  He relaxed towards sleep.

     Bannon put his hand over Zevran's, slipping his fingers between the assassin's so they were intertwined.  
  


 

  
  
( _The next morning...._ )  
  
     "So, we get issued guns today?" Zevran said, digging out the clothes he was going to wear that day, in the dim early morning light of the elves' apartment. 

     Bannon rubbed a hand over his head, tousling his hair into a complete mess.  "You didn't take one yesterday?"

     "Augh!  You didn't steal me one?"  Zevran flung his arms up in dramatic despair.  "After I so craftily distracted Jack for you?"

     "I had it before that," the thief scoffed.  "You need to learn better."

     "That was when you were supposed to steal _me_ one!"  Zevran grabbed his shirt and threw it on over his head.

     "I'm not sure where they keep the bullets and clips, though."  Bannon frowned and cut his lover a sharp look.  "What is that?" he demanded.

     "Is nothing."

     Bannon roughly grabbed Zevran's hair and pushed his head aside.  He pulled the neck of the shirt open.  "What the hell is this?"  There was a deep red crescent on the side of the Antivan's neck where it met the shoulder.  Blotches spread out from it.

     "It is nothing," Zevran insisted, yanking himself free.

     "Nothing?  Andraste's Tits, it looks like Blaze bit you!"  Bannon was furious.  That big, hulking, smirking shem bastard!  He pulled Zevran's shirt up.  The dim light from the window showed discolored spots on the elf's flanks.  "Did he hurt you?"

     Zevran yanked the shirt back into place.  "We just got a little rough, that is all!"

     Bannon grabbed him by the arm, forcing the assassin to look at him.  "Did he _hurt_ you?"  His voice was low and dangerous.

     "No," Zevran said firmly.  He gripped Bannon with his free hand.  " _No._ "  His amber eyes glittered, holding Bannon's gaze firmly.  "Jack... is not very submissive.  We got a little rough.  Don't worry, I'm fine.  And," he smirked cockily, "I marked him up just as much.  It was all just a bit of rough and tumble."  Zevran waved it off as Bannon loosened his grip.

     "I don't think I want you doing that again," Bannon said, his voice still low.

     "Eh, well, I was not really planning to."  Zevran shrugged and grabbed his pants.  "He was good for a bit of excitement, a wrestling match to be sure....  But I think my appetite is satisfied."  With a smile, he leaned into Bannon, poking him with an elbow.  "Until you want to wrestle me, lover."

 

 


	5. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Bannon talk about what happened last night.

 

     The Torchwood facility was bustling with morning activity.  Toshiko looked up from her workstation as the security door opened.  She got up when she saw Zevran come in.  Was that a hickey?  Jesus!  She went over to draw Bannon aside as he followed the blond elf in.  "Hey," she said, keeping her voice low.  "I'm really sorry about what happened."

     Bannon gave her a deeply worried look.  "Why?  What happened?"

     Tosh's mouth dropped open.  "You-- you don't know?"  Everybody in Torchwood knew about it by now!  Jack couldn't keep from bragging about his latest conquest, not that anyone wanted to hear about it.  He seemed to have no shame about leading Zevran to be unfaithful to his lover.  Well, better for Bannon to hear it from a sympathetic source.  "It's... Zevran was with Jack last night," she told him carefully.

     "Oh, that!"  The elf looked relieved.  "Yeah, I know about that."

     Tosh blinked, her eyes wide.  "Zevran told you?"  Bannon just... didn't seem upset at all.

     "Well, he asked me."

     "He _asked_?"  What?  And the crazy elf didn't mind?  What kind of relationship was that?

     Further questions or discussion were forestalled when Jack leaned down from the catwalk railing.  "Bannon!" he yelled down.  He fixed the elf with a glare and beckoned imperiously with one finger.  He was in full hardass commander mode.

     "Gotta go," the elf said with a shrug.  
  


 

  
  
     Bannon barely got into the ready room before Jack was all over his case.  "Where's the gun?" the shem demanded.

     "Gun?  What gun?"  He glanced at Zevran, who was lounging back in one of the chairs.  The Antivan elf shrugged.  Gwen was seated across from him.  She said nothing, but was studying Bannon with intensity.

     "The gun you stole yesterday," the captain insisted.

     Bannon raised his hands and shrugged helplessly.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

     "Ianto says one of the guns has gone missing."

     The office manager, dressed in impeccable black suit with red-striped tie, stood behind the captain.  He consulted his clipboard.  "I checked in the guns this morning.  One is definitely missing."

     "Hand it over," Jack demanded.

     Bannon looked at him incredulously.  "You lost a gun?  How is this my fault, exactly?"

     Jack lowered his brows.  "Do the words 'Thief wins again' hold any meaning for you?"

     Zevran snorted.

     "Oh, right, blame the elf.  Did you try counting again?"  He glared at Ianto.

     "I counted three times."

     Jack took a breath and visibly forced himself to calm down a notch.  "You have no idea how dangerous these things are," he said.  "If you forget the safety, if you drop it, or if you're trying to clean it or disassemble it, it could go off.  People die in accidents like that.  Or you could kill someone standing nearby."

     This guy must think they were total idiots.  And who invents a weapon that could accidentally kill someone just by handling it?  Bannon said,  "If that's what you're worried about, I thought you were going to teach us that today."

     "Oh no," Jack said, wagging a finger.  "No more handgun lessons until the missing one turns up!"

     Bannon threw his hands up in the air.  "Well, that's great!  It could be anywhere.  I suppose you expect us to go find it."

     "Don't make me strip-search you," the captain growled.

     "Jack," Gwen spoke up, her eyes still on Bannon.  "I don't think he has it."  She peered speculatively at the elf, trying to assess his protestations of innocence.

     Jack bit his lip.  He glanced at Ianto.  The Welshman barely twitched a brow.  Jack turned and glowered at Bannon.  "In my office," he snapped.  "Now!"

     "Ooh," Zevran smirked.  "Someone is in troub-OW!"  He quit when Bannon whapped him upside the head.  
  


 

  
  
     Jack leaned both hands on the conference table and pinned Zevran with his glare.  "Did you take one of the guns?"

     "Me?" the elf scoffed.  "You saw all the weapons I have."

     "Did Bannon take one?"

     "Not that I know of."

     With a frustrated huff, Jack straightened.  He looked at Ianto.  "You checked everywhere?"

     "I swept the floor," Ianto reported steadily;  "I replaced all the used targets.  I didn't find any stray guns on the floor or under the table.  Nor down the alley, in case you were behaving like bad 70's villains and flinging guns at people after running out of bullets.  The rest are all catalogued and replaced in the locker."

     Jack shook his head.  "All right, I'll get to the bottom of this."  He went to his office.  "Sit down," he told Bannon as he walked in.  He turned and closed the door.

     The elf flopped loosely into the chair, leaned back, and propped one foot on the edge of Jack's desk.  He looked like a juvenile delinquent about to sit through another grilling by the cops.  The captain folded his arms and looked down on him.

     "I know you took the gun.  Hand it over."

     Bannon slipped his foot down from the desk and planted it on the floor.  He leaned forward, his clear brown eyes looking directly into Jack's.  "I don't have any gun," he stated firmly.  "Why would I take one of your stupid guns?" he insisted when Jack didn't reply.  "I don't even know where to get bullets for it."

     Jack frowned to himself.  "What other explanation could there be?"

     "I don't know!"  Bannon leaned back, thinking speculatively.  "Maybe you didn't take it out.  Maybe you stuck it in your coat pocket and forgot about it."

     "I wasn't wearing my coat."  He couldn't believe the elf wouldn't come clean, not even in private.  How did he expect to get away with this?  That strip-search was looking more and more likely!  Wait a minute....  Jack turned.  His coat was hanging on the back of the door.  He quickly stepped over to it and fished around in the deep pockets.  And yes, he came up with a semi-automatic.  He just had to laugh.  "Oh, you are _slick!_ "  He checked, the safety was on.  He released the magazine.  "Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth!  Oh, I can use you."  He turned and went to his desk.

     "Excuse me?"

     "I mean, Torchwood can use a man with your talents."  He put the gun and clip on the desk, in plain sight.  "We have to do all kinds of misdirection when dealing with the general public.  A bit of thieving could come in handy, too -- and don't tell me you're not a thief."  He tipped his head down and looked at the elf.  Bannon didn't deny it.  Jack smiled and said with genuine admiration, "You really sold that.  I mean, you fooled Gwen, and she's police-trained in interrogation.  Hell, I was about to tell Ianto to go count again, and he's _never_ wrong."

     Bannon sighed.  "Great, you found your gun.  Can I go now?"

     "Actually, no.  There's something else I wanted to tell you."  Jack rested one hand on his hip, the other on the desk as he looked down at the gun and clip, not really focusing on them.  Just trying to marshal his thoughts.  "It's about last night."  The elf's eyes narrowed.  Damn, this was hard.  It was weird, too.  Jack had... in his checkered past... been responsible for breaking up couples, but he'd never had a fling with one partner who was in an open relationship with another.  "Things got a little out of hand," he confessed.  "I'm not usually like that.  I wanted to apologize, if you're upset."  He glanced up.

     Bannon slowly leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest.  He didn't say a word.

     Jack felt a little lost.  "Uhm... are you?  Upset I mean?  We don't have to talk about this, if you don't want to."

     "Oh no, keep going.  This ought to be good."

     "All right, yes, I'm sensing a little ire here...."  The elf was not going to make it easy for him, was he?  "It was just a heat of the moment thing.  I wasn't trying to make a claim on anything, or mark my territory, or piss you off in any way.  It just happened, and I apologize."

     Something flashed across Bannon's face.  He seemed surprised.

     "It won't happen again," Jack assured him.  "I mean," he added quickly as Bannon's eyes narrowed; "me and Zevran; it was just a one-time thing."  It was funny, telling someone you had a one-night stand with their boyfriend usually ended up making them furious.  Instead, Bannon seemed mollified.  Besides, the elf had okayed the liaison, so he had no right to be mad.

     "All right," he said.  He stood up.

     That was it, then.  He'd apologized and Bannon had given him all the acceptance of it he was likely to get.  Time to move on.  Jack took the gun and the clip, and opened the door.  He strode out and began issuing orders.  "Okay, handgun lessons after lunch.  Tosh!" he called down to the work floor.  "Put a hold on that survey and find some illegal snuff films on the internet, maybe some unfiltered war footage, showing death and injury from firearms."  The tech nodded.

     Ianto said, "Did you find the missing handgun?"

     "Yeah."  He passed the gun and its clip to the office manager.

     "Where was it?"

     Jack grimaced.  "In the pocket of my coat."

     Zevran started sniggering.  Jack just gave him an evil look.  Smug bastard had known all along.  Jack made a note to check out that TV show about the guy who studied people's eyebrows and could tell when they were lying.  Fiction though it was, it might have some handy tips for dealing with these elves.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the Gunz sequence.
> 
> I do not currently have any plans for moving the whole DA:TW series here to AO3. I'm, frankly, lazy, and posting it to one place is enough for me.


End file.
